


What to Watch

by SunshineAndRoseWater



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2073744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineAndRoseWater/pseuds/SunshineAndRoseWater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Gerard and Frank were Youtubers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What to Watch

Frank smiles down at the picture still displayed on his phone. “She's fucking perfect.”

Worm rolls his eyes. “Dude, you met her yesterday at a bar. Chill.”

“I can't!” Frank whines, flipping to the next photo, a selfie of them kissing. It's a little off-center because she took it blind; cutting off most of her head, but Frank doesn't care. He still remembers how that kiss felt, wet and a little bit sloppy, her tongue piercing tickling inside his mouth.

“Dude.” Worm jokes, poking at the dimple on Frank's cheek, making Frank growl and snap at his finger. “Are you going to, like, run away with her now? Stand at the bottom of her balcony begging her to marry you or some shit.”

“No,” Frank snaps indignantly then sighs. “She's moving back to her parent's house today. And we're not some stupid star-crossed teenagers, okay? I'm an adult who makes my own choices. Besides she doesn't even have a balcony.”

“Oh my god, you are that cheesy.” Worm groans. “Where is her parent's home anyway?”

“Connecticut.” Frank flops back on the couch, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically. “Who the fuck lives in Connecticut?”

“Your Juliet, apparently.” Worm responds.

Frank groans. “Jersey will be gray now, because she is the sun and now she is gone.”

“Jersey's always gray.”

“Shut up, Worm. I'm trying to be poetical.”

“Dude, you're a mess.”

“I know.”

*

“Put these on.”

Gerard turns around just in time to get a face full of black denim. They smell unusually clean, a result of Gerard actually having brought his laundry home for the weekend visit and his mother willing to wash it for him. Something he is grateful for as Mikey, his little brother, barges into his room and begins tossing the newly-cleaned clothes at him.

“And this,” Mikey says, draping a shirt over the jeans already on Gerard's head.

“Oh, and these.” Two soft thumps as Mikey tosses Gerard's favorite converse shoes at him.

“Why?” Gerard crosses his arms, getting them tangled in the legs of the jeans. He's sure he looks ridiculous, but he's also sure he didn't come home for the weekend just to have Mikey boss him around.

“We're going out.” Mikey calls from the direction of Gerard's closet.

“I don't like going out.” Gerard moans.

Mikey mumbles something that sounds a lot like 'I know,' but when Gerard yanks the clothes off his head and asks Mikey to repeat himself Mikey just shrugs. “Comic book store closes in an hour.”

Mikey flops onto Gerard's bed and fishes Gerard's wallet out of its hiding place under the mattress. Gerard makes a mental note to find new spot for his porn collection so Mikey doesn't find that hiding place as well.

He's halfway through tugging his t-shirt-turned-pajama-top off when he realizes Mikey hasn't moved.

“Are you going to leave so I can change?” He demands.

“No.” Mikey says, picking up a nearby comic book and leafing through it. “If I do you'll never get dressed. C'mon, I wanna go to the comic book store with you. They've got a new shipment in.”

Gerard sighs in exasperation. Mikey knows exactly what to say to get him out of the house and he hates it as much as he appreciates it. Gerard's sure some days he wouldn't leave his bed if it weren't for Mikey.

*

“Do you think she likes comic books?” Frank asks, waving a Wonder Woman comic at Worm.

Worm shrugs. “Most girls don't.”

“Allie is not like most girls.” Frank argues, flipping through a few of the colorful pages.

“I'd still ask her first, before you got her anything.”

“I guess you're right.” Frank places the comic gently back on the shelf. He already owns the issue and it would be pointless to buy a second copy if Allie didn't like it. Frank doesn't even know her address up in Connecticut, he should figure that out. Maybe they can send each other letters. It would be more romantic than email or instant messaging. Frank smiles to himself, he really likes the idea.

“Yo, Frankie.” Worm calls from somewhere else in the shop. “Ready when you are.”

“Okay.” Frank calls back. He turns to leave and walks smack into someone. Both Frank and the guy gasp and stumble from the impact. The guy drops his comic and Frank reacts quickly, snatching it out of the air. He smooths down the cover, one he doesn't recognize with a group of Superheroes posed in front of an explosion, and offers it to the guy.

“Sorry,” Frank apologizes, pressing the comic into the guy's open palm. “I hope it’s okay.”

The guy runs a hand over the cover, following the path Frank's hand took when he smoothed it out. “It'll be okay.”

Frank looks up at the guy but his head is down, still staring at the comic, and there is a curtain of black hair obscuring his face.

Frank smiles politely anyway. “Awesome, sorry again.”

He steps around the guy and hurries to meet Worm.

*

It turns out Mikey's trip to the comic store was only the first part of a two-part plan to get Gerard out of the house. The second part of Mikey' plan starts with Mikey patiently leading the way down the street while Gerard wanders behind, nose stuck in his new copy of Suicide Squad. During a lull in the action of the scene Gerard is reading he glances up and realizes they aren't where he thought they were.

“This isn't our street.” Gerard says, dumbly.

“Nope.” Mikey says.

“Where're we going?” Gerard knows Mikey well enough to figure out what he's up to. Clearly he used the comics as a trick to lure Gerard into one of his least favorite activities, socializing.

“Diner.” Mikey informs him, nodding towards the building designed as if it had been built in the 60s, which it may very well have been considering that it's been there for as long as anyone can remember. The diner is one of Mikey's favorite places and even Gerard agrees they make good hamburgers, but Mikey rarely goes there just to eat.

“Who are we meeting?” Gerard asks, carefully.

“Just Ray.” Mikey says. “And one of Ray's friends, I think he's from out of town.”

Gerard nods. Ray's nice, he can handle Ray, and any friend of Ray's shouldn't be too hard to get along with. He flips his comic closed, running a finger forlornly across a crease near the bottom of the cover. The damage is a result of knocking into some kid in the comic book store. Gerard can't remember when he first started referring to people younger than him as 'kids,' probably sometime around his final year of college as he began to look for a job and take on more responsibilities like an actual adult. Though, Gerard's not actually sure if the guy is even younger than him, he was too busy worrying about the damage the comic received from being crushed between them. The guy was shorter than him, which makes him younger in Gerard's mind, but also incredibly polite which could mean he might be older than Gerard first thought. It's the kid's politeness that made Gerard accept his apology, despite the crease in the cover. Gerard slips the comic back into his plastic bag of new purchases as he and Mikey enter the diner.

Ray and his friend, a blond guy with a thicker more muscular build, are waiting for them in Mikey's favorite booth with a round of coffee already ordered for everyone. Ray introduces his friend as Bob and Gerard gets pushed into the booth opposite him so that Ray and Mikey can sit across from each other. Ray immediately starts telling Mikey about a new band that just showed up. They reserved the use of Ray's studio for a month which is, according to Ray, not nearly enough time to track more than a few songs.

Mikey rolls his eyes. “Do these kids realize how much time it takes to make an album?”

Ray shrugs. “I don't think so.”

Gerard is focused on the conversation, wondering to himself when _Mikey_ had started referring to some people as 'kids,' when Bob speaks up.

“So, what do you do?”

“Huh? Oh, me?” Gerard asks, pointing to himself like an idiot.

To his credit Bob doesn't laugh at him, he just nods encouragingly and sips at his coffee. Gerard takes a gulp of his own coffee, buying himself time to gather his thoughts.

“I'm, um, a cartoonist at Cartoon Network in New York.”

“Wow, that's impressive.” Bob sounds completely sincere and Gerard smiles in spite of himself.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

Bob chuckles. “Try not to be so modest, now.”

“Sorry.” Gerard shrugs, ducking his head back into his coffee.

“Dude, it was a joke.” Bob says, shaking his head.

Gerard can feel heat rising to his cheeks. He can't even tell when someone is joking; Bob is going to think he's a complete idiot. But if he does he makes no of indication of it.

“So, did you have to go to college to get that job?”

“I, uh, majored in cartooning.”

Bob leans forward so quickly Gerard is startled into sitting back.

“You can _major_ in _cartooning_?” Bob gasps.

“Yes?” Gerard says, unnerved by Bob's intensity.

“How do you major in cartooning?”

“By being an amazing cartoonist.” Mikey cuts in and Gerard is pleased to have him deflect some of Bob's attention.

“Well, I'll have to see some of your work sometime.” Bob decides, sitting back and shooting Gerard a kind smile. Gerard returns the grin.

“So you're into cartooning, do you know anything about comic books?”

Next to Bob Ray shakes his head. “Boy, does he ever.”

Gerard ignores Ray's joking barb and his smile grows wider. _Now_ he has something to say.

*

Gerard only stops talking when Mikey shoves a fry in his mouth.

Bob's question about comic books led to a lengthy discussion over who is the better superhero, Superman or Batman. They had gotten so involved with their discussion that they barely noticed when the waitress came to get their orders. Bob spared a moment to tell the waitress what he wanted, but Gerard didn't bother. Instead he let Mikey order for both of them.

Gerard doesn't even notice when the food shows up. He's in the middle of explaining how Batman is better because of his fighting skills when Mikey shoves a couple of thick fries in his mouth, silencing him. The other three laugh as Gerard chokes and sputters on the fries and finally eats them, washing them down with a sip of coffee.

Mikey is still laughing when he resurfaces from his coffee and Gerard decides the best revenge is to steal one of Mikey's fries and try to shove it in Mikey's ear. Mikey squawks and squirms away squeezing to the edge of the booth seat to get away before Gerard gives up and eats the fry himself.

Mikey slides back into his seat and pushes Gerard towards his burger. “Alright, I deserve that. Now stop talking for a second and eat.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, but they all dig into their food, conversation temporarily forgotten. Gerard is halfway through his burger when Bob speaks up.

“Y'know,” He says, using his napkin to wipe some sauce off of his hand. “You should make a YouTube video explaining this stuff.”

“A what?” Gerard asks, scraping up a few stray pieces of lettuce.

“A YouTube video. You could make one talking about a superhero or a comic or something and explain it to people. Or talk about a debate, like Batman or Superman, and share your side. You'd make good videos, better than most people's.”

“That's a thing?” Ray asks, voicing Gerard's question.

“Yeah,” Bob insists. “And I tell you what; most of those dudes don't know shit. Gerard, here, could actually educate people. He knows what he's saying.”

Gerard blushes and ducks his head. Mikey bumps his leg against Gerard's encouragingly.

“You think so?” Mikey asks.

“I'd watch his videos.”

Their goodbyes turn into plans to hang out the next day. All of them have Sunday off work, though Gerard has to leave for New York in the evening. They end up deciding to meet at another local restaurant for brunch.

When the brothers finally part from their friends Mikey speaks up. “So, did you have fun?”

Gerard blushes and glace at Mikey, who is wearing his annoying shit-eating grin.

“Yeah, Mikes,” Gerard admits. “I had a lot of fun.”

*

“Dude, chill.”

Frank sighs loudly and drops back onto the couch with a dramatic flourish of arms.

“How _can_ I? Our calls keep getting dropped.”

Frank had decided earlier that day that the best way to woo Allie long-distance would be to play a song for her. Allie had been all for it, going so far as to lock herself into her room so she could listen to him without distraction. It never worked out, the call kept getting dropped and the more they both tried to connect the worse the service seemed to get. After the seventh or eighth time they lost connection Allie didn't pick up when Frank called. Instead he received a text telling him she had to go. Frank had been crushed.

“Why don't you YouTube it?” Worm suggests, pressing a beer into the hand that isn't draped over Frank's eyes.

“Huh?” Frank asks, sitting upright so he can take a sip of his beer.

“YouTube it.” Worm repeats. “Y'know, take a video you playing the song, upload it to YouTube, and send her the link. That way she can watch it by herself whenever she wants. She can even watch it over and over again. She couldn't do that if you were just playing it over the phone for her.”

Franks stares at Worm, blinking rapidly, beer sitting forgotten on the table.

“You. Are. A. _Genius_.” He crows.

“I know,” Worm says, rolling his eyes. Frank ignores him. Charging around the apartment Frank locates his laptop and his guitar and brings them back to the couch with him.

“Wait, you're going to do this now?”

“Why not?” Frank exclaims and Worm quickly snatches the forgotten beer before Frank can knock it over with his guitar. “You can help me make sure it looks good. Do you think the built-in web cam will be okay?”

“Don't see why not.” Worm sweeps the paper and garbage littering the coffee table into a bundle and shoves it in a corner of the room. As Frank tunes his guitar Worm gets the computer set up, typing in the password that Frank trust no one else but him with, and starting the web cam.

“Is it on?” Frank asks.

“It's recording.” Worm says, tapping a button.

Frank takes a deep breath and starts playing.

When he's done Worm helps him create a YouTube account and upload the video. They don't bother to edit it. Besides the song, which took three tries to record without messing up, these are only a few short pauses in the video where they had taken time to make sure the recording had begun and after the song when it took Worm a few seconds to hit stop.

As soon as Frank gets the video URL he texts it off to Allie with a quick text.

_Made something for you <3_

*

Allie doesn't respond to his text that night and still hasn't responded by the time Frank has to go to work the next morning. Frank works two jobs, one as a cashier at a local music store and a second one at the family restaurant a couple blocks down from his apartment.

Today he works the early shift at the restaurant as a bus boy. Normally Frank doesn't really mind the job, but today is Sunday and everyone and their mothers always turn up for post-church Sunday brunch.

Frank is rushing around frantically to clean up tables so that the next group of hungry patrons can have a seat. His usual bussing partner, a very quiet boy named Brad, was shanghaied into helping unload the industrial dishwasher so that the restaurant actually has clean dishes to put the food on. He shoots Frank an apologetic look as Frank squeezes past him to unload yet another bin of dirty dishes onto the already overloaded dish counter. Frank smiles back, letting Brad know that he doesn't blame him for the unfortunate situation.

There are other bus boys, but Frank and Brad share a section with one waitress named Cookie. Cookie is a force to be reckoned with. Most days she can handle a sizable section of the restaurant by herself. She has been working at the restaurant since before Frank was born and she's a customer favorite just as much as the apple pie. She drafts Brad and Frank to help her move larger orders of food when she can't lift it all herself and splits the tips evenly with them. Frank loves working with her because she is kind and fair to both him and Brad and she shares more of the tips than she is obligated to.

Today, though, is far different. Another waitress has been added to Cookie's section to support the influx of patrons and Frank is forced to almost run in order to keep up with all the work that he usually shares with Brad.

The bratty kid at table three who wouldn't stop crying didn't even touch the brownie his parents had ordered to keep him quiet. Looking around to make sure no one is watching Frank surreptitiously pockets the treat in a folded napkin. Before loading the dishes into his bin. At the rate this day is going the brownie might be the only food he gets for the rest of his shift.

Frank heaves the heavy bin and scurries back to the kitchen. He has to slip passed the hostess to get there, but he's perfected a spin that allows him to slip passed the girl while only occasionally grazing a corner of the dessert display cases with his bin. He completes the spin and turns towards the kitchen when someone steps into his path. Frank doesn't have a chance to react before he knocks into the person.

Frank's only coherent thought is _oh shit, I hit a patron_ , before he is losing his balance and his grip on the full bin of dishes. He must have a bit of good karma, though, because neither he, nor the bin, nor the patron ever hit the ground. The patron he hit, a guy who looks about Frank's age though much taller and thin as a rail, catches a corner of the bin, managing to stabilize it in Frank's grip. At the same time someone else catches Frank by the bicep, pulling him upright. Frank looks to the person holding him and sees another tall guy, this on with a big fluffy afro, looking down at him inn concern.

“You okay?” Afro guy asks.

Frank nods and turns back to the patron he hit.

“I am so sorry. Oh my God, are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” The thin guy says, looking at Frank with the same concern as Afro Guy. “I'm so sorry, I stepping right into your way. Are you okay?”

Frank nods, belatedly realizing that the thin guy is still supporting the bin. Frank heaves it onto his hip and both of the guys let go.

“I am so sorry, again.” Frank repeats before hurrying into the kitchen.

He dares a glance back and sees the thin guy in a close cluster with Afro Guy and two other guys Frank hadn't noticed. They are talking heatedly.

Frank is so fired.

*

“Great job, Mikey.” Bob jokes.

“Shut up.” Mikey mutter, poking gingerly at his ribs.

Gerard steps closer. “You going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Mikey nods, pressing on his side more firmly. “'Might not even bruise.”

“Good.”

The hostess hurries up to them, looking frazzled.

“I am so sorry, sir. Are you alight? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine,” Mikey insists. “It was my mistake.”

“Okay, so you’re good?”

Mikey nods.

The girl relaxes visible. “Okay. So you don’t need anything?”

“You could tell us,” Bob says quickly, “how long the wait will be.”

“Thirty to forty-five minutes. Would you like me to put your name down?”

Gerard frowns and looks around his friends to see varying degrees of annoyance and disappointment.

“I don’t really want to wait that long,” he offers.

Ray and Mikey nod in agreement.

“Don’t bother,” Bob informs the hostess.

They get a small pie from the front display case and head out. They end up at Ray’s studio which is roomier and less cluttered than the Way basement. Once the pie has been devoured Gerard finds all the attention firmly on him.

“So,” Bob says, “you going to make that video?”

Gerard blinks. “What?”

“The Youtube video,” Ray insists. “Where you can explain comic books and stuff. You said you would.”

“Oh, no. No. No. No,” Gerard gasps, scooting away from his friends’ bright smiles. “I never said I would.”

“C’mon, Gerard!” Mikey begs, looking over his glasses at Gerard. He turns on his Way Puppy EyesTM full force. “You’d be so good at it.”

Gerard sighs. “One video?”

“Unless you want to do more,” Bob says.

“Fine.”

The chorus of cheers bolsters Gerard’s confidence. A little.

Ray immediately begins setting up his laptop as Bob and Mikey clear the remnants of their “brunch” off the low table. As Ray explains the webcam to Gerard and how to use it and how he has to sit in order to be center in the shot Gerard has a sudden realization.

“Wait, what do I talk about?”

“Batman versus Superman,” Bob answers. “Like we were discussing yesterday.”

“Now,” he sits down behind the laptop, facing Gerard. “Tell me about it.”

“What?” Gerard gapes. “I can’t just tell you about it, it was a discussion. You said so yourself. I can’t just hold a one-person discussion with myself on camera. I’d look like a fool.”

“You are a fool,” Mikey jokes.

“Thanks, Mikes,” Gerard mutters sarcastically.

“He’s right, though,” Ray admits. “Bob, get in there.”

“What?” Bob exclaims. “No. No fucking way. I am not getting in front of that camera.”

“What’s the matter, Bob?” Gerard asks, grinning evilly. “This was _your_ idea.”

“I don’t belong in front of the camera, I belong behind it.”

“We can’t do this video without you in it.”

“No,” Bob says, glaring at Gerard.

“Fine.” Gerard reaches to shut the laptop. “Then we just don’t do it. I mean, who cares if massive amounts of internet users go without my opinion? Forever misunderstanding the iconic superheroes in their comics.”

“You’re baiting me,” Bob grumbles.

“It’s working, though,” Gerard says. He’s bluffing; really, he has no idea if his cajoling is working. Bob’s poker face is strong.

Before Bob can respond reinforcements arrive. Ray and Mikey edge closer to Bob, inch by inch. Mikey has his glasses resting far down on his nose and Gerard knows Mikey is giving Bob his puppy eyes. In the end no one can resist Mikey’s puppy eyes. After being stared at for s few long minutes Bob finally groans.

“Fine,” he moans, getting up to sit next to Gerard, his normally gruff expression looking especially sour.

Gerard nudges Bob’s shoulder with his own and smiles. Bob stares flatly at him before finally returning Gerard’s grin, albeit a bit reluctantly.

“Okay,” Ray says excitedly, reaching for the button to start the webcam recording. “Are you ready?”

“You do most of the talking,” Bob tells Gerard. Gerard nods.

“Ready.”

*

Frank doesn’t get fired.

In fact, Frank doesn’t get much of anything besides a sore pair of feet and a few crumpled bills tucked into his pocket along with the brownie he never got time to eat, by the time his shift is over.

He doesn’t see the thin guy or his friends again either, something he has mixed emotions about. On the one hand, he’s glad he doesn’t have to face the guy again. On the other hand, that guy looked kind of cool. He was dressed in what Frank would consider concert gear: a band t-shirt, tight jeans, and a pair of converse. A part of Frank wants to know if they guy and his friends will be at the concert tonight, while the rest of him is too embarrassed by the collision to want to see him there.

Worm picks Frank up from work because he is a saint and he knows Frank is always too tired and sore to walk the few blocks home after a Sunday shift. Frank collapses into the passenger seat with a groan, yanking off his heavy non-slip work shoes.

“You’re going to make my car smell of feet,” Worm complains.

“Bite me,” Frank mutters, wrestling with the seatbelt.

“Long day?”

Frank makes an affirmative grunt and slumps lower in his seat.

“We need groceries,” Worm says. “Mind stopping by the store?”

“As long as I can stay here.”

“Fine.”

Worm starts the car and drives off.

Frank wakes up to Worm shaking him. They’re parked in front of their apartment complex, apparently Frank slept through Worm’s whole grocery trip.

“Can you carry a bag?”

Frank nods and tugs his shoes back on. Worm grabs three of the bags, leaving Frank responsible for one and door-opening duties.

He barely manages to get inside before he’s collapsing again, a slow and melodramatic slump onto their living room carpet.

“You going to be okay tonight?”

Frank nods into the carpet.

“You sure?”

Frank turns his head so that his mouth is free from the floor. “Give me, like, an hour.”

“Okay…”

Frank presses his face back into the carpet.

“You going to at least go to your bed?”

“Can’t,” Frank mumbles into the carpet. “Too tired.”

Worm heaves a long suffering sigh. He scoops Frank up, carries him down the hall, and dumps him unceremoniously in his bed.

“You are the best roommate ever,” Frank declares.

“Yeah,” Worm says, dragging the comforter over him. “I know.”

*

Gerard has to literally drag Mikey out of the studio. When he’d gotten his job in New York Gerard had bequeathed his old clunker to Mikey, since he doesn’t need a vehicle in the city. Unfortunately it means he now relies on Mikey for rides to and from the train station. As much as he would love to stay longer, the last Sunday train will be leaving soon which means he has to either leave now of at some ungodly hour in the morning. Since it is physically impossible to wake Mikey before 10AM Gerard chooses the option that will get him to work on time.

Mikey speeds on his way to drop Gerard off. Ray had mentioned a show involving local bands tonight that he and Bob were planning to attending. They had invited both brothers and Mikey had enthusiastically accepted. He now wanted to drop Gerard off as quickly as possible so he had plenty of time to get ready for the show. He spares a few moments to give Gerard a tight hug, as always, and a promised “see you next weekend.”

Gerard climbs onto the train with a huge smile on his face.

Halfway to the city Gerard remembers something he’d completely forgotten. He pulls out his phone to text Mikey.

_I forgot to get Bob’s #_

Mikey responds quickly with a string of numbers and the message _What kind of brother do u think I am?_

_The best kind_ Gerard texts back.

*

Frank is mostly revived by the time he and Worm head out to the club. Allie still hasn’t texted him back. He sends her a quick text anyway.

_Show tonight. Miss you <3_

The venue is a tiny grimy joint that hosts a wide range of local talent. The reason for the club’s popularity is that they have what they call an “underage section.” In reality it’s just that the bar is sectioned off by a chain link fence with a sign warning “21 and over only.” Frank’s band is opening tonight which means that the crowd is small when they step onstage and most of the 21 and overs are in the bar section, drinking and listening passively. Frank doesn’t let it bother him as they run through sound check. He’d play the same show for five people as he would for five thousand, not that he’s played for anything over the club’s capacity of two hundred. But it’s the music that matters and he appreciates anyone who wants to listen to him.

The show is good. The number of people in the pit grows from somewhere around twenty to more like fifty as they play and their final song receives a wild applause.

Frank hops offstage and dumps the rest of his water bottle over his head, using a towel to scrub the sweat off his face and hair.

“That was good,” Worm says, taking Frank’s empty bottle and dirty towel.

“Yeah,” Frank agrees. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“Okay.”

They make their way through the crowd over to the bar. Frank holds up his license as he approaches the fence, familiar with being carded. The bar is packed by the time they reach it, a result of people migrating towards it while they wait for the next band to perform. Frank gets trapped in the crush of people and has to rely on Worm to retrieve a beer for him. Worm shoves his way to the bar.

“You’re good,” someone says, nudging Frank’s shoulder.

“Thanks, man.” Frank turns around and nearly jumps in surprise when he recognizes the thin guy standing next to him.

The thin guy’s eyes widen when Frank looks at him. “Oh, hey, you’re the bus boy from the restaurant.”

Frank flushes red with embarrassment.

“Yeah,” he admits, seeing no point in lying. “You okay? I didn’t mean to hit you.”

The guy flaps his had dismissively. “Shit happens. I’m Mikey.”

Frank offers his hand. “I’m Frank.”

“So, Frank,” Mikey says, lip turning up in a slight smile. “You wanna go to a party later? I hear the main act is hosting an album release party, or something.”

Frank would love to go, he really really would. But part of getting by on a livable wage has Frank working two jobs on Monday. Worm has an overnight security job he has to get to as well and Frank relies on him for rides. Most times his evenings are so shot it almost makes it impossible to keep himself in the band.

“I can’t. I have work tomorrow.”

The smile slips from Mikey’s face. “Oh. Okay. Well, it was nice to meet you. Y’know, with fewer injuries and all.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Frank and Worm head out before the main act, racing to get Worm to work on time.


End file.
